Ties That Bind
by drosier
Summary: Carly, Sam, and Freddie hit high school, coming to face issues that could sever their friendship forever, though a few snags - and lots of silliness - are necessary to find what tie the three of them together indefinitely. Eventual femslash. Carly/Sam
1. New Beginnings With Familiar Ends

**The Ties That Bind**

**Note:** I skipped ahead a couple of years to get to where Carly, Sam, and Freddie are in the summer right before high school here.

Seeing as how Rip-Off Rodney is in 9th grade in season one, and Carly, Sam, and Freddie are in 8th, I'm thinking they go into High School during their 10th year. That would make them about 16 when the fic begins. Let me know if I'm wrong!

Also, issues regarding homosexuality are going to come up (though it'll take a while to actually get there), so if that offends you, you should decide whether you choose to read or not now. It's not really the main focus of the fic, but I thought I'd give a fair warning. Keeping with the theme, this _shouldn't _go above a T rating. Also, this is probably going to get pretty long.

Oh, and "Laura" is Sam's mother. If anyone knows her actual name, feel free to correct this! :)

**Disclaimer: **I really wouldn't be doing this if I owned the show. :(

* * *

**_I. New Beginnings With Familiar Ends_**

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that if you don't have anything nice to say, you shouldn't say anything at all?"

"And didn't anyone ever tell you that if no one's gunna listen to you – and that means_ ever_ – because you'll always look like a pre-pubescent tech nerd, you shouldn't say anything at all?" Sam retorted lazily.

The third floor of Carly's apartment was full of thick, billowing fog – the result of an iCarly experiment gone horribly, _stupidly_ wrong – and she just couldn't bother with Freddie the Dweeb. On the other hand, though, he was all blurred from the mist, so she'd never liked the sight of him more. That sight being pretty much _out_ of her sight.

"Come on, you guys," Carly said as she swatted away fog like it was a swarm of bees, even though it was a fruitless task, even though she probably _knew_ it was a fruitless task.

The fog even gathered in corners – was probably _breeding_, for Christ's sake – but there was this thing that being all tightly strung chords of nervous energy provided Carly with, which was that she had all these involuntary quirks and twitches. Kind of like drinking bottled water in a frenzy because Freddie wasn't in the studio on time.

"Do you really want to be fighting while we're about to be swallowed up by some insane nuclear cloud?" she asked in an almost frenzied calm, then coughed once and made a sickened face in conclusion.

"I'm cracking open a window," Sam announced and strode over to the far wall. The rows of stained-glass were darkened with the sky, looking like teeth in the upside-down mouth of a giant.

Now was one of the times when Sam wished that all the windows could open, the last time being when she'd somehow gotten an entire roasted chicken lodged under the Mustang bench Spencer had built and didn't say anything about it - beside to blame it on Freddie - for over a week.

"Thanks, Sam," Carly said, sounding oddly like she had cotton balls lodged in her mouth. "We should probably all go downstairs before we suffocate or something."

"Yeah, come on, Carly," Freddie asserted. Sam opened the second window and looked back toward the doorway. As she expected, there was a Freddie clogging it up, holding the door for Carly. "We'll leave Sam to the windows."

Carly strode to the middle of the room, still waving an arm in front of her face most of the time, and picked up an orange folder by one of the beanbags they'd dragged out to the middle of the studio.

"Coming, Sam?" Carly asked giddily, grinning innocently as Freddie's mouth dropped open. Now if only Sam could get her to use that I-smile-angelically-as-I-stab-you-in-the-back tactic against society, they would be set.

Also, Sam was crossing her fingers for a fly to dive into Freddie's gaping mouth. "Ugh, why do we always have to have her around?" he whined.

Sam jumped down from the window seat. "_Wrong," _she cried like a game show buzzer. She strolled over to Carly and threw an arm around her neck, pulling her close._ "_It's, why do Carly and I always gotta have_ you_ around."

"Oh, please," Freddie spat. "Like she'd really –"

"_Guys_," Carly screamed, _way_ too close to Sam's ear. "Can we please go now so we can _not_ continue this conversation downstairs?"

Freddie squinted his eyes at Sam in what Sam thought was supposed to be a glare but made him look more like a discontent hamster. "You got lucky," he grumbled, turning on his heels and heading out the door.

"If I really got lucky, you wouldn't be here at all," she grumbled, a perfectly fine insult that got Carly's bony elbow stuck in her ribs.

"_Ow_!" Sam whined. She pulled her arm from around Carly's neck and gaped at her in mock indignation. To Sam's chagrin, Carly just gave her the I-smile-angelically-as-I-stab-you-in-the-back shrug. "_Treason!_" she hissed, stalking after Freddie.

Behind her she could hear Carly stifling a laugh, and against her good sense, Sam smiled.

-

Sam stared at the sadly blackened TV screen dreamily. She was nearly right in front of it, so if she could just inch over a bit without being noticed –

"Sam, are you even paying attention?"

"What?" She slowly turned her head toward the kitchen. Carly was sitting in front of the computer monitor, leaning back on the counter in that still-too-stiff-to-be-_truly_-relaxed relaxed fashion she'd had forever. "I'm paying attention. You said something about macaroni," Sam said in defense, though granted, macaroni was never the best defense in _any_ situation.

"She _would_ only hear the part about food," she heard Freddie grumble from where he was seated closest to the door, which was _almost_ right. He should have been on the other side of the door, though. "Throw 'er out," he said. "She's not even contributing."

"I am too," Sam protested. "I was just thinking of an awesome idea for the next iCarly episode."

"Yeah, what is it?" he challenged.

Oh jeez. She'd forgotten it was always a bad idea to tell people she was just sitting there thinking. They always got suspicious or worried that they were going to wake up to find all their hair gone. (In her defense, though, it'd only happened _once._)

"It's uh…well."

"Just give it up. You've got nothing," Carly sighed playfully.

Sam hung her head in acquiescence. "I know," she dragged out matter-of-factly.

"I don't blame you," Carly shrugged, plucking at the bright edges of the orange folder in her lap. "I know how you get when you're forced to focus on one thing for too long."

Now Carly was a _good _friend.

"Now that's not fair," Freddie Not-So-Good At Anything voiced loudly. "She doesn't even do anything beside lie around and eat all the food, and you're just letting her off like that?"

"That is not true," Sam protested. "I bring personality to the show."

Freddie looked toward Carly incredulously. "It's true," Carly shrugged. "And anyway, Freddie, not everyone can be as disciplined as you are."

Freddie swelled with pride and looked about to burst. "Well," he said loftily. "My mother _did_ instill a great love of rules and structure through her unorthodox methods."

Sam snorted derisively. She really_ did_ have no choice but to puncture his ego.

"Yeah, she really instilled how to be hopelessly unskilled at real life and die alone with those twice-daily body checks." Or maybe it wasn't so much puncture as stab ruthlessly, but whatever. She was flexible.

"Oh, that tears it!" Freddie said, shooting to his feet and sporting his whole three-foot-whatever height. He was absolutely seething. "I _refuse_ to put up with this any longer!"

"Freddie, she didn't mean it," Carly said wearily. She looked exasperated, and Sam almost felt bad for inadvertently causing it. "Sam, apologize." With that, she pointed her folder in Freddie's direction, as if Sam might think there was another person who was hopelessly unskilled at life and destined to die alone in the room.

Freddie was still on his feet, bristling like a wet cat and looking at her expectantly.

She crossed her arms defensively, as if to say, _No deal_. "I'm not gunna apologize to _that_," Sam said obstinately, reaching for the remote and switching on the TV.

Carly leaned far over, reaching over Sam to grab it from her hand and then slapping her on the wrist for good measure. With a final end-all-nonsense motion, she switched off the TV.

She sighed, switching to the fondly exasperated face she got when she felt she had to play Sam's mother. "Apologize or go home."

She knew Carly didn't really mean it, but _still._ Sam gaped. "I_ can't_ go home. My mom's got a new boyfriend, and the walls in out apartment are _really _thin," she pleaded, adding the extra little flare of emphasizing 'really' with her thumb and index finger. Carly just looked at her, eyebrows cocked amusedly and her lips pursed in a stiff line. "Alright," Sam relented. "I'm sorry."

"I meant look at Freddie and say it to _him_."

Carly, Sam decided unhappily, was a slave driver.

Freddie looked triumphant and had his arms crossed over his chest in a sickening manner. She wanted to punch him. "I'm sorry I said that you were hopeless and would die alone," Sam said in a never-wavering monotone. He actually _smirked_ at that. "And I'm sorry you look like a chipmunk that got his head chopped off and are just about as tall."

"Hey!" he shouted. "I've grown a whole eight inches since we've started iCarly!"

Sam quirked an eyebrow in disbelief.

"OK, it's_ seven_," he said nastily. This time_ Sam_ smirked. "Five then! Jeez, at least I'm not you. At least I don't look like something that _needs_ to get its head chopped off."

"Can't you two stop fighting for at least a _few_ minutes?" Carly complained. "I want to get the preparation for this week's show done, and it's not going to happen if you two are at each other's throats every second."

There was silence in all directions, and a vague discomfort rented out the room, driving nails through their walls as it waited for them to come back into the moment. Whatever, Sam had proved before that she could live with discomfort.

Of course, though, The Rodent spoke first. "I'll agree if Sam agrees."

Sam rolled her eyes. "You'd agree to anything Carly asks, you whipped, little –"

"What was that, Sam? " Carly asked sweetly, and if she was any more sarcastic, she'd have sworn she was Sam. She was impressed despite herself. "You say you _want_ to go home now?"

Of course, Sam really _should _have been getting home soon, but – well, when did she ever _really_ do what she should? Anyway, Laura was out with a _new_ boyfriend, which probably meant she had "forgotten" to mention she had a daughter, and they'd probably be going back to the apartment after whatever low-class romp they were attending with boxed wine, which _definitely_ meant Sam _didn't _want to be there.

So really, it'd be a rotten time to start doing what she should.

"Sam, you need a ride home?"

Suddenly Spencer was standing at the end of the couch nearest to the armchair where Freddie was seated, swinging his arms like two, giant pendulums.

He had some crazy wired headgear buckled around his forehead. The wire rods came out from the strap around his temples and above his eyebrows and all wrapped around to the front of his face where they held what looked like two slices of cucumber with holes cut into the center of each one. One cucumber slice was placed in front of each of his eyes, and he blinked owlishly from behind them.

"What is _that_?" Carly half-chuckled. Even Sam couldn't help smile, but with Carly, her eyes always seemed to brighten when her brother was around. It must have been a nice feeling.

"I've got a date tonight," Spencer said in poor explanation, adjusting his cucumbers. "Yep_,_ met her on the internet_._ And yes, she's real_," _he intoned, dragging out every syllable and varying his speech as if his voice had to reach every note before he finished speaking. Then, he added as a quick afterthought: "And online dating is not safe practice for minors."

"But _why_ do you have holey cucumbers on your face?" Freddie asked in befuddlement.

Spencer sniggered and scrunched up his face. "Holy cucumbers," he giggled before sobering abruptly. "These," he said pointing to his face "are for the puffiness under my eyes. I've been up late. Workin' on my sculpting."

"You mean staying up late chatting with your online girlfriend?" Carly teased.

"Somewhat, yes," Spencer amended pensively. "See, I don't have enough time to be layin' around with cucumber slices over my eyes, so I figured I whip up a brilliant contraption, and this way, I can go about my business while still treatin' my eye puffiness."

"But isn't part of it actually _resting_ your eyes?" Carly piped up, obviously amused.

"No," Spencer said mysteriously. "Cucumbers have _healing powers_." He nodded widely at them as one who was in on the elusive secret of the cucumber.

Sam involuntarily looked over at Carly, knowing the amusement she'd find there over her brother's usual kookiness, but when she looked over, Carly was already trying to catch her eye. They shared a grin and then looked away.

"Now Sam, you need a ride home?" When she looked back toward Spencer, his head was cocked, cucumbers looking at her inquisitively.

"Yeah, Sam," Carly said, imitating Spencer's tone. She had an eyebrow raised, and her face was saying, Your mom, her boyfriend, and paper-thin walls. "Do you?"

Sam sighed deeply. "I agree to you terms," she relented sulkily.

"Alright," Carly said, looking satisfied. Then she quickly changed her gaze to Spencer. "Sam's spending the night. Is that ok?"

"I approve," he said grandly.

"Great, now go get ready for your date," she said playfully.

"I shall. But first, I crave a snack. To the kitchen!" With that announcement, he made long, lunging strides for the whole four and a half steps it took him to get there.

"Good," Carly said, twisting the shape of her face so that in the next second, she was all business. And really, it was kind of freaky the way she did that. Sam totally approved. "So first up," she said, "I wanted to ask you guys about the carnival coming up in August. You know, the one the high school holds in the parking lot every year for incoming students.

"We'll be able to attend this year, so what do you guys think about opening a booth for iCarly there? There was a notice in the newsletter saying the school was looking for the students to fill five of the booths not designated to clubs and other highschooly stuff."

"That sounds like a great idea," Freddie said sycophantically, and at the same time Sam asked, "There was a newsletter?"

"_Doesn't_ it?" she directed at Freddie. "And yes, there was a newsletter, Sam," Carly sighed, changing her tone especially for her. Sam chose to believe it was more out of fondness than just _pure_ exasperation.

"What? My mom never gives me my mail! She's probably paranoid that Child Protective Services is trying to contact me."

"Well, you can look at mine," Carly offered, frowning slightly.

Sam thought on it for a second and then wondered _why_ the heck she was thinking on it. "Nah, not interested."

"I'll share with you, Carly," Freddie said dreamily. She could practically _hear_ him drooling.

Carly laughed. "Why? Your mom makes you recite it to her every night so she won't be worried about you not being prepared for high school."

Sam threw her head back and laughed.

"_Carly_," he whined. "You said you wouldn't say anything."

Carly curled a hand over the equally curved upward-twist of her mouth, as if everyone wouldn't still be able to see her smiling. "Sorry Freddie, it slipped." She straightened in her seat, as if she were somehow stretching off her giddiness before she spoke again. "Anyway, all we have to do if we want to set up a booth is fill out an application by next Friday, and they'll contact whoever they've chosen about a week before the carnival."

"Ugh, I can't believe you want to _work_ while there's going to be a carnival going on," Sam groaned.

"Hey," Freddie said self-righteously. "Some of us actually care about iCarly."

"I _care._ It's just. _Work_," Sam said, throwing her head back against the couch, because the one hideous word explained it all.

Carly twirled her orange folder sadly in her hands. "Well, if you don't want to -"

"No, I'll do it," Sam said. She was going to anyway. Carly didn't have to make wretched faces at her. "Just don't say I don't care about the show." At that, she looked pointedly at Freddie.

"_Great_." Carly finally reached into her orange folder then, as Sam knew she's been waiting for all night, whipping out two sheets of paper fast enough to cut through someone's arm.

"So you've already decided we're doing this since _when_?" Sam asked lazily, sulking lower into the couch.

"We're out of butter!" Spencer suddenly yelled from the kitchen, voice muffled. This was probably because he had his entire head in the refrigerator.

"Top drawer!" Carly yelled back. Then "'Bout yesterday morning," she said in answer to Sam's question, a complacent smile shaping her lips.

"And you kept it a secret since then? Wow," Sam said, impressed.

Carly made a sound of indignation. "I can too keep secrets!"

"She can _indeed_," Spencer said in agreement as he walked back to his room with a bowl of cereal and an entire stick of butter in his hands. There was also something that looked like icing globed onto one of his cucumbers, probably from when he stuck his head in the refrigerator.

_Well. "_You're right," Sam relented. "You can keep little, inconsequential things to yourself, but when things gets big, your jittery little nerves can't handle it. Like the time I switched your grade in the school computer."

"That was_ huge," _Carly said defensively. "I had to tell Spencer before all my hair fell out! You saw it! It was fallin' out all over town!" Sam just quirked an eyebrow. "OK, you're right," Carly said quickly.

"Of course I am," Sam said. "Who else knows you better than I do?"

"_Me_," Freddie chimed in desperately. _Great_. With how quite he'd been in the last few moments, she thought he'd gone. She and Carly both turned their heads in his direction. "_Hello!" _he said like a haughty little girl. "_In love with her_, remember?"

Sam rolled her eyes and turned back to Carly. "So what would we do at this sick perversion of a carnival?"

"Aw, don't say that," Carly pouted. "I'm really looking forward to it,"

"Oh, come on. It's a carnival for _school_. What kind of sick mind came up with that?"

"I know!" Freddie screamed abruptly. _Rude!_ But then, she couldn't blame him since he probably felt some kind of camaraderie for sick minds and had to announce it before his head exploded. "We can do a kissing booth," he stated.

One look at him made Sam lean away from his direction. He was looking a bit crazy around the eyes.

"OK…" Carly dragged out, unsure. "What exactly does that have to do with iCarly?"

"Nothing, but I suggest we get a lot of practice before then," he said, putting on a face like someone'd just poked him between the eyes. Sam wondered if that was his idea of suave. "Just in case."

Carly laughed, albeit a bit nervously, clearly not seeing him for the menace he was. And at this point, all Sam could really do was say, _Whatever._ She'd tried relentlessly over the years to teach Carly the evils of The Freddie, but for some reason it just didn't stick.

And _clearly_ it was time to resort to electroshock therapy, because she made a fatal mistake then: "Yeah, sure," Carly chuckled sarcastically. "Let's practice _right now."_

Freddie was on his feet before she'd even pronounced the last syllable, shouting "_OK_!" and making a mad dash toward Carly.

It was lucky, Sam realized, that she had very good reflexes.

She reached out and grabbed the little perv roughly by the collar as he swished by in a tumbling fury of excited nerd-dom, causing him to make some choked noise in the back of his throat. "Hold up, Bilbo Baggins," Sam said lazily. "I think it's time you went home and took a cold shower. Don't forget to put the stop in the bathtub drain and lie on your stomach the whole time."

"Hey!" he choked around the shirt collar pressing into his throat as Sam began yanking him toward the door. Thankfully she was still stronger than him, even though they were probably matched in height now. "_Carly!_"

"She's right, Freddie," Carly said, clearly tired. _Finally._ She was standing now, her arms crossed over her chest in a decidedly uncomfortable gesture. "It's getting late. Let's just finish this up another time, because we're obviously not getting anything done tonight."

"But you said, OK," Freddie whined defensively. Clearly he'd missed out on a few steps to reaching masculinity. Well, he'd missed out on a few steps to reaching _humanity_, too. What can ya do?

"You heard the lady," Sam said. "It's probably past your bedtime anyway."

With a great yank, Sam dragged Freddie backwards, going toward the door as Freddie's flailing limbs trailed behind like tin cans tied to trail behind a car. He distinctly accentuated each step with a loud, "_Ow._" It was like music to her ears, and Sam applauded him by throwing open the door and then throwing _him _harder so he landed out in the hallway and on his face.

Quickly slamming the door, Sam leaned against it and turned the deadbolt lock. That done, she turned and pressed her back to the door.

Carly was still standing over by the computer, looking torn between throwing out all her foolish pro-Freddie sentiments and thanking Sam or sticking to her guns and perhaps slapping her on the wrist. _Again._

But after what Freddie had tried, she knew a part of Carly approved, even if it were just a tiny bit. One thing was for sure, though. Carly didn't make a move to let him back into the apartment.

Sam smiled her most winsome smile, the one that was all cheek rather than bloodied lips and sharp teeth.

"Welp," she said beatifically. "Looks like it's just you and me, kid."

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Thanks for reading! Reviews appreciated. :)


	2. New Beginnings With Familiar Ends, cont

**Ties That Bind**

**Notes: **This is actually **part two of chapter one**. I had to cut it into two sections because I have an illness and therefore produce chapters with lengths that would imply they were involved in some nuclear spill. :( **It's still kind of long, though, so let me know if you guys think I should separate these into shorter chapters in the future. **

And **THANK YOU** to those of you who took the time to read and review. I'm pretty sure I replied to all of you. I hope I can keep you all interested!

Also: remember when Carly stole Freddie's tangerine-scented marker? Yeah, that's it. Explanation further down.

**(The Long, Long) Disclaimer: **I don't own _iCarly._ On that note, I don't own Drake Parker (Did any of you notice his pic up in Sam's locker?) from _Drake & Josh_ either_, _and you'll see why that's relevant soon!

One more: the quotes "Everything's about to change now, isn't it?" and "I seal up my lips and give no words but mum." are from that cringe-worthy scene in the _Goblet of Fire_ movie and _Henry VI (Pt 2)_ by Shakespeare, respectively. _Fancy_, huh? :P

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**_I. New Beginnings With Familiar Ends, continued_**

"Can you believe the dweeb?" Sam asked dryly as soon as she walked into Carly's bedroom. "I thought his head was gonna explode when you said you agreed to his stupid plan. And really, you'd have to wake up and suddenly be pretty high on the weenie scale to get that one past a Freddie." Abruptly, she thrust a hand in front of Carly like it was a microphone and put on a severe face. "What were you thinking, Carls?" Sam asked in an Australian accent. "All your adoring fans are just _dying_ to know!"

"Oh shush," Carly said, swiping Sam's hand away. "And why am I being interviewed in Australia?"

Sam shrugged dramatically, making a droopy face before turning on her heel and walking deeper into the room, her blonde hair bouncing like party streamers.

"And you should really be nicer to Freddie," Carly sighed, using the front of closing the door to turn away and veil her expression with the fall of her hair.

Really, though, she was worn out and fraying at the edges. It wasn't enough just to say that the Freddie Situation, as she tacitly referred to it in her mind, was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. "He's just…_you know_," Carly explained weakly.

_Everyone_ knew.

"Yeah, and that's the _problem_," Sam groaned, doing a stomach flop onto Carly's lavender comforter. At least they were in agreement about _something_ that involved Freddie. "The boy's completely delusional. He needs to get it through his thick, little nerd skull –"

And Sam Puckett had once more strayed from politeness. "_Sam_," Carly sighed in exasperation.

"His thick, little _Freddie_ skull –"

Carly rolled her eyes and leaned back against the door. "I suppose that's an improvement," she relented. And then, pensively: "Although I don't know if I approve of you using people's names like you mean it as in insult."

"Whatever," Sam said, though Carly could hear the laughter bubbling just beneath the surface. "But seriously, the boy needs to throw in the towel or he's going to die a lonely old man with a wife and kids made out of computer parts. I bet his computer wife will even leave him. Oh, and they'll all exist in your perfect likeness, of course."

Carly's mouth involuntarily quirked at the edges. Leave it to Sam to nearly scandalize her into laughter.

"Great imagery, Sam," Carly said. "It's nice to know I should start to worry about my identity being stolen sometime in the future by crazy robots." With that, Carly pushed off the door to walk over to her desk, throwing her orange folder on top. She would take care of it tomorrow. "And the rest of that analysis is actually kind of sad."

"_Yeah_ it is," Sam shot. "Who'll look after the little gizmos and whatever else he called his kids when he's dead and gone?"

Carly chuckled and walked over to the bed. She dragged her fingers along the tiny grooves of the quilt at the end, washes of raised thread feeling like brail under her fingertips. She'd made this quilt - her and her mother.

"Hey, remember when we were kids and we used to play house?" Carly asked suddenly, seating herself next to Sam. "I used to be the mom, and you used to be the dad. Remember we had a baby named Claspy made out of food, and you stuck chicken bones in it because we were learning about the human body in Miss Pringle's class, and I was upset because Claspy had no skeletal protection around his organs?"

Come to think of it…

"Yeah, that's kind of nasty," Sam shuddered, pulling the sentiments from Carly's head like plucking threads of gossamer from an old rafter.

"Yeah, I don't really know what we were thinking."

"That was before Freddie came along and ruined everything," Sam put in dreamily.

Carly'd forgotten. "Oh yeah. Can you imagine if he would have been around then, though?" Carly laughed. "Then he could have been baby Claspy."

"Yeah, and it would have been a lot more satisfying when Claspy got all moldy and lost his head, and they had to rush me to the emergency room because I got really hungry that one day and gnawed on one of his legs."

"That was a sad day," Carly said pensively.

Sam made a face and absentmindedly rubbed her arm. "Yeah, it was the first time food betrayed me." There was an unhappy pause as Sam, presumably, thought of food treachery. "Hey, what was up with the name Claspy, anyway?"

Carly smiled. "I don't really remember."

"Oh well. Too bad the same fate didn't befall ol' Freddo."

Carly reached back – and this was almost unconscious by now – and pinched Sam's arm. Someone had to enforce restrictions. Encouraging the Freddie Bashing, as Sam fondly referred to it, would only lead to chaos later on.

"Ow!" Sam whined, rolling onto her back and looking up into Carly's face. Carly twisted around to look down at her with more ease. "You're always so _physical_. I've never even laid a hand on you!"

"Of course not," Carly teased. "Husbands aren't allowed to hit their wives."

Sam snorted. "Ha ha. Tell that to my uncle Steve," she deadpanned. She sat up then, knocking Carly's elbows with her own as she repositioned herself to sit next to Carly. "Why the trip down memory lane anyway, cupcake?"

"I dunno," Carly shrugged. There was a pause, a thought, and then a sudden sadness. "Everything was just easier back then, ya know? My dad was around a bit more, there was less pressure with school…Freddie wasn't so _serious_," she trailed on sulkily.

"No iCarly, less freedom," Sam continued sarcastically, sounding obnoxiously light-hearted over the sudden arrival of Carly's teenaged angst. Her bony elbow was pressing into Carly's forearm, but still, she was warm. It was a strange comfort: Sam was real, reliable. "On second thought, more idle time, less responsibility for our actions…yeah, I can see where you're coming from."

Carly grabbed a black-and-white throw pillow from the head of her bed and shoved Sam over with it. "Come on," Carly laughed. "Let's get ready for bed. Last time I fell asleep in this skirt, I ended up wearing it as a blouse."

"You are one classy gal, Carly Shay," Sam quipped as she stood, doing a half bow and pointing both fingers at Carly before pivoting and trudging over toward Carly's closet.

"It's almost like that guy at the community pool who wears his socks in the water," Sam said as she turned, arms over her head as she stretched and yawned, exposing a stretch of skin between the hem of her shirt and a pink belt. "Oh, and by the way, I heard Jake's working there this summer. You wanna -" she waggled her eyebrows "- go check it out? Eh? Eh?"

It took Carly a while to realize what she had just asked.

She walked past Sam, brushing her shoulder lightly as went toward the closet door. It made a _shush_ing sound when she opened it, catching on the rug.

"Nah," Carly shrugged, nudging it the rest of the way with the toe of her shoe. "I got over that a long time ago."

Sam'd left a pair of pajama bottoms here a couple of weeks before, but Carly couldn't remember where she'd put them.

"Yeah, but. Have you _really_?" Sam probed. "I mean, you haven't had any crushes since then. That's kind of weird, right?"

"I dunno," Carly shrugged again – and for how much she seemed to be doing it, Sam must have thought she had some type of nerve disorder. She turned on the light on in the closet. "Not really. I mean, there just hasn't been anyone all that interesting."

"Why not?" Sam asked, her eyes illuminated like the tiny, swaying flames of a candle. "There are plenty of cute guys at our school; I see _plenty_ of interest to be had. Heck, I've had _two_ boyfriends this year."

Carly actually snorted at that. "One Week Saul and the guy you fought for that last slice of pizza with until he ended up in the hospital?" Carly laughed. "You were only with him until you were sure he wouldn't press charges."

"Hey, it still counts," Sam complained indignantly. "But I'm just puttin' it out there, Carls. We're not exactly going to be at a shortage of cute guys when we get to Stonewood in a month."

Carly knelt down in front of her white clothes hamper, because come to think of it, the pajama pants were probably still with the laundry. "I guess," Carly said, her words framed and softened by the touch of all the cotton hanging around her head. "But I feel like…that just isn't enough, ya know?"

Sam frowned. "Well, what about Jake? You didn't exactly know him, and you still thought he was the cat's meow." Sam illustrated what Carly thought was supposed to be a meow with a fluttering hand gesture. Carly bowed her head and smiled into the dirty laundry.

"You're right," she conceded. "I don't really know what that was about." A thought came to her, something she'd never been able to place before. She started rummaging through the hamper again. "I guess he kind of reminded me of you. You kind of look like him, and, well, you _are_ my best friend. Maybe I thought..." She trailed off at that, unsure of how to finish.

The thoughts skittered around in her head half- formed as she tried to grasp at something whole. It was like weaving her fingers through plumes of smoke like it were clay, trying to form something tangible from that.

Perhaps it was that Jake _already_ felt familiar to her.

Sam snorted, broaching Carly's concentration. "_That's_ rich. I wonder what his girlfriend would say about that."

At that moment, Carly looked down and saw the familiar dark zigzags of Sam's pajama bottoms. "Here they are!" Carly said, emerging from the wicker. She felt flushed from all the rifling.

"No, I don't really think she'd say that," Sam said dryly. Then she perked up. "Hey! I hear she has an _awesome_ vacation home in Canada. Do you think –"

"Sam," Carly said severely, already knowing where this was going. Sam was like one of those lab rats who had to get electric shocks whenever they strayed from the right course in a maze. "I think she can tell the difference between you and her boyfriend."

"But what if I –"

"No."

"But with _extremely loose pants_, I could –"

"No!"

"Oh, come on!" Sam cried. "At least let me get to the part of my plan that involves _pudding_."

"Pudding, right," Carly said as she stood. It was a bit scary how determined Sam looked. "Because that'll make her overlook the fact that her boyfriend suddenly shrunk a half a foot, made up for it by growing about twenty inches of hair, and decided to start shaving his legs. Do I need to bite you to stress my point, or are we good?"

"It depends," Sam said. "Are you gonna make it even and bite both my hands or are you just gonna leave one sadly less punctured than the other? I don't take well to being messed with, Carly Shay. Talk with anyone who's crossed my family." She looked pensive for a moment. "Except for that guy Bob Ramirez. He got off easy because he was already missing all his limbs."

Carly couldn't help but grin. "You and your insanely dangerous family," she said fondly as she thrust the pajama bottoms into Sam's grasp. "I think you've got the point anyway."

Sam looked far from amused. In fact, she looked like Carly had just handed her road kill. "You're gonna make me wear my smelly pajama pants from last week as punishment?" she gaped. "You've got a sick and twisted mind."

"No," Carly said. "I just know you don't like the shorts I sleep in, and they're all that are clean right now. And come on, they're not _that_ smelly," Carly said.

"Yes, the shorts that grace Freddie Benson's dreams on a nightly basis," Sam twisted out with disgust. "Just hand 'em over. I know you'll get all huffy if I go to bed in jeans, and I am _not_ wearing a pair of pants that have been hangin' out under your dirty laundry for a week."

"Hey, I happen to be very cleanly –" Carly started, but was cut off due to Sam's pajama bottoms trying to strangle her face. She sputtered, yanking them away from her air passages and throwing them back into the hamper before there was some type of damage done. "Point taken!" Carly nearly screamed.

Sam just stood there, grinning like a devil.

Carly grabbed a fresh pair of pajamas for both of them, making sure to try and hit Sam in the face when she gave her hers. Sam had good reflexes, though. It was very unfortunate.

Carly changed and washed up quickly enough, grabbing a magazine from beside her bed and dropping onto the comforter when she was finished.

"I can't believe you actually match your room right now," she heard Sam say from somewhere beyond the glossy pages.

Carly took a moment to suck in her cheeks and strike a pose, and Sam smiled indulgently before looking down the tangled mess she'd made of the pajamas Carly had given her. "Watch out, or we might just have a match for Freddie when it comes to dorkiness," she teased.

"Oh shut up and put on your pink short-shorts."

"Alright, but this is going to get ugly, and you are not watching," she said, stalking off to the bathroom. Carly smothered a laugh and turned the pages.

A couple of minutes later she heard a groan from behind her which soon accompanied: "Well, let's just be thankful I'm shorter than you are."

Carly glanced up and was suddenly faced with a long patch of pale skin.

"Oh, suck it up," Carly teased. Sam actually had really nice legs.

"How 'bout 'suck it _in_'?" Sam asked, turning to the side to display non-existent imperfections. "Your shorts are tighter on me than my mom is with her wallet. Looks like I've got to cut down on the ham."

"Oh shush," Carly said playfully. "You could never give up ham."

At that, Sam's entire face lit up. "Nope!" she agreed. "But thank goodness you've got an older brother." With that she was out the door and into the hallway before Carly could reply.

Carly went back to the magazine, and a few moments later Sam returned draped in a t-shirt with a hem that nearly grazed her knees. She was also carrying a plate full of bacon.

"I thought Spencer wasn't here." He _had_ left for his date over an hour ago by now.

"He's not here," Sam agreed. "Now shove over."

Carly sat up. "Sam, you just went through my brother's things?"

"Are you kidding me?" Sam gaped, plopping down next to Carly. "I'm not going into his Lair of Masculinity. I might catch something. This is the band t-shirt he got mad at and tried to suffocate under the sofa cusion after that whole incident with those jerks. You know, you really should clean those sofa cusions out more."

"I'll make a note," Carly said, amused. She made a little check in the air with her index finger. "_Noted_."

"Good girl, now what garbage are you absorbing into that pretty little head of yours?" Sam asked, taking a piece of bacon and handing it to Carly.

"Only the best kind," Carly exclaimed. She opened the magazine wider, glossy print winking back at her in the overhead lights. "Look at this. It says here that the musician who did the song on the Daka commercial last year is going on tour."

"Ooh," Sam crunched in her ear. "You mean the song you were obsessed with until Freddie serenaded you with it on your birthday? Nice." Carly gave her a reproving look and a slap on the back of her hand with her bacon.

"I thought we all agreed never to mention that again," Carly pouted.

Sam considered her and then her own hand for a moment. "You're right," she said before going in and licking the bacon grease off her hand. "I seal up my lips and give no words but mum."

Carly raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, I pay attention sometimes!"

"To Shakespeare?" she smirked.

"You're right again," Sam conceded, looking glum. "It was on a parody episode of _Ninja Robots_. But like I was about to say, this boy is no Freddie. _Hello_, Drake Parker!" She leaned over Carly then, bowing down to read the article – or perhaps just ogle at the pictures - on her lap. "Where have you been all my life?"

"In your locker," Carly laughed.

Sam gave her a blank look, like Carly was insane for suggesting there were cute boys stuffed in her locker.

"Sam, you've got a picture of him on your locker door," Carly said in wondrous amusement. "Clearly you should have known this before."

Sam looked at her as if she were going to have to explain something to a child.

"I'm not good with _names_," she defended. "Or details. Okay, half the reason it's in there is to perturb Freddie. It's a harsh reminder of what happens when he tries to ignore all the signs of your constant rejection and _make the moves_."

Carly stifled a laugh under her incredulity. "I've got to say, that's sneaky, Sam. Even for you."

"I choose to take this as a compliment."

"Of course you do."

They grinned at each other from over that last word before Sam shifted closer, leaning down over the magazine on Carly's lap once more. She was fused up against Carly's side and smelled vaguely of a sofa in the center of a tangerine field.

Sam reached over and turned a page, and a lock of her hair fell forward onto an exposed stretch of Carly's shoulder as her breath tangled in Carly's hair, weaving the dark, wispy threads into different patterns-

" – and you're not listening to a word I say," Sam said, ending on a disconcertingly high note.

"Huh?" Carly asked dignifiedly, or at least she would like to think.

"I _said_, 'So we're going to see him at the Catalyst then, huh?' I also said, 'There were rats in your kitchen skiing across the counter on crisp slices of bacon.' That, along with an assortment of other random nonsense. And while on the topic, you _do_ have pretty crispy bacon."

Carly perked up. "The crispiest! Spencer made a new friend. His name is Baconi."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "That Spencer's got some creepy friends. Who looks at their name and decides to make a profession out of it? He's like the hub to this twisted wheel of freaks."

Now Carly raised an eyebrow at _her_.

"Oh right," Sam said, sounding pensive. "i_Carly_. Hm, seems like Spencer's the cause of this path of insanity." She thought on that a moment, looking off into the distance, eyes slightly glazed. "Have you ever checked him for like, plugs and wires and stuff? Maybe he's an evil robot who's affecting your brain."

"Yeah, I examine his leg hair while he's sleeping, trying to see if they're really tiny receptors."

She looked over, and Sam was gaping at her, eyes glazed over once more, and half a slick of bacon dangling precariously from her mouth. Carly reached over and snapped Sam's jaw shut. "Sam, I was kidding. I think my parents would have noticed."

"Yeah," Sam said, sounding somewhat deflated, as if you would have liked nothing more than to find out her best friend's brother was an evil robot. "Wouldn't that be awesome, though?" She stiffened abruptly, widening her eyes. "I am Spencer, Evil Robot," she intoned. "I instil an unnatural fondness for bacon in unsuspecting young adults. Relinquish your life to the bacon, Baconi. It is your right, as it is your name– ow! You _pincher_."

"Pincher?" Carly laughed. "And quit it. Spencer's not an evil robot, but if he heard that, he'd probably start to worry. You know how he is."

"Yeah," Sam said, rubbing her arm. "_Unusual_. But still, a girl can dream." She picked the magazine back up then, holding it up to Carly's face. "And speaking of dreams: you, me, and Drake Parker have got an appointment at the Catalyst in September!"

"Awesome. Did you also see the part about him being on _Seattle Beat_?"

"That I did," Sam nodded grandly. "Do you think he'd like a banner made out of Baconi's specialty bacon?"

"Wow, you're really stuck on that bacon," Carly mused before changing her tone. "And who _wouldn't_ want that?"

"Yeah, I know. Speaking of _Seattle Beat_," Sam yawned, stretching like a cat. "_I'm beat_." She completed the motion by falling dramatically onto her back.

Carly looked down at Sam. She already had her eyes closed, and her blonde hair was mussed and sprawled around her head like golden halo. Carly was immediately suspicious.

"I saw that one coming."

Sam served her a wry grin. "I know ya did, babe." She yawned. "You were always the smart one."

"Uh huh," Carly said, standing and stretching herself. "And Smart One says you sleep _under_ the covers."

Sam's mouth twitched as she tried not to grin, and Carly rolled her eyes. "No energy left for that."

"Don't make me have to carry you, Sam Puckett," Carly warned.

To this Sam stretched her arms out to Carly like a five-year-old. Carly crossed her arms over her chest in stern statement Sam would stubbornly refuse to see.

When nothing happened for a few moments, Sam cracked open an eye more in the manner of laboriously cracking open a stone and dropped her arms to her side.

"Fine," Sam said nonchalantly. "But now you can't get in your bed, and I'm perfectly comfortable here."

"Sam," Carly whined. It was true. She knew Sam, and she could be as stubborn as a five-year-old hyped up on Peppy Cola. "Fine, but just so ya know, I'm gettin' you one of those doggie beds for the next time you sleep over."

"Roof," Sam muttered lazily as Carly walked to the other side of the bed, choosing to ignore Sam's smile. She knelt down onto the edge, grabbing Sam under her arms.

"I think you were right about having too much ham, Sam," Carly teased as she tried to half-drag Sam into the right position. For a moment, she considered dropping her off the edge and ruthlessly suffocated a smile in the bright fluff of Sam's hair.

"Hey, keep quiet or you'll wake me," Sam scolded. And that was where Sam lost all Carly's sympathy.

Carly released her hold on Sam then, dropping her back onto the mattress. "Hey!" Sam said, looking upside-down into Carly's face.

Carly got up and walked over to the light. "Whoops, you slipped," she smiled, making sure the last thing Sam saw was her looking completely unapologetic.

The blankets rustled and swished as Carly got into her bed, and after a few moments, she heard Sam give a loud yawn as her head hit the pillows.

At that, she smiled.

Sam was her best friend. The thought washed through her suddenly, making her insides boil. She'd been thinking about it at lot more than usual lately, what with their transfer to Stonewood coming up, and not just where she wondered if being best friends with Sam was worth all the detentions and regular trauma-inducing shocks she had to suffer. And of course, she always decided it was worth it.

And it wasn't just that she'd never made a friend before Sam, not like this, and not where she knew how to care for someone – and so unconditionally - outside of her family with so much fervor.

She didn't think the change would affect them too much, but. Well.

Carly had always seemed welcoming to change, but the truth was that the internal agony that came before just wasn't something she liked to broadcast. In the end, though, she always decided what was at the end of the tunnel was well worth the dirty plunge through it.

The glow-in-the-dark stars that were plastered to the ceiling overhead did nothing to light the room, not like before – not like when she and Sam had put them up when she and Spencer had moved into their apartment and dad had shipped off.

Carly tried to make out a pattern in the lightly glowing plastic, tried to connect the dots, but there was nothing.

"I'm kind of nervous about switching schools," Carly said.

There was heavier breathing for a moment, as if a tiny wind had stretched out beside her like a ghost.

"Oh god," Sam groaned sleepily. The winds, it seemed, were annoyed.

Carly's heart sped. "What is it?"

"Are we going to have one of those 'Everything's about to change now, isn't it?' conversations where we have to hug and make promises to stay the same forever and ever?" From the corner of her eye, Carly saw Sam's form move in the blackness - a shadow imposed over a softer shadow - before Sam spoke again. "Is there a weeping audience here somewhere?"

"Sam, seriously," Carly said, grabbing her arm. Sam stiffened, settling herself back down.

"You worry too much, Carls," Sam sighed. Carly could hear the roughness in her voice brought on by imminent sleep. "Just go with it. That's what I do, and I turned out just fine."

Carly couldn't see it, but she knew Sam would be grinning through her rumpled sleepiness like a child who just got his hand caught in the cookie jar before dinner.

Carly shared her smile, thankful Sam was there to ground her with her dubious advice.

"Does just go with it mean that if I should desire weaving peanuts into my hair and running away to join the circus instead so I can do an act where I ride a Mexican pony down a flaming escalator in a thunderstorm while a starved elephant chases after me, then that's okay?"

"Hey, if the urge hits you," Sam yawned encouragingly. There was another rustle, and Carly felt where Sam laid her hand near her arm, fingertips barely touching the stretch above Carly's elbow like the brush of dandelion fluff. It was a small comfort, and Carly smiled, knowing it was no accident. "I don't know where you're going to find the Mexican pony, though," Sam went on. "We're kind of far north from Mexico."

Carly almost wanted to say that she really _did_ want Sam to promise it would always be the same then, but sleep was grasping at her with its airy fingers, becoming more and more solid until she closed her eyes, let it enfold her in its palm, and she could say no more until morning.

* * *

Thanks for reading. Your thoughts are appreciated. :)


	3. Pack Mentality

**Ties That Bind **

**Notes: **Okay, I feel like I have to issue this huge apology. I really didn't expect to go so long in between updates, and I'm _really_ sorry. I hope too many people haven't lost interest in this story. And thanks to all of you for taking the time to leave super-fantastic reviews! I appreciate it lots.

**Disclaimer: **Clearly I do not own _iCarly._

So, in honor of tonight's new _iCarly _episode (which was _awesome, _btw):

* * *

_**II. Pack Mentality **_

"_Where have you been?_"

"Who cares!" Sam said as soon as she was standing in front of Carly, who was wearing a fake, gray mustache. "I've got some_ insane_ news."

"No time!" Freddie asserted from where he already had the camera in hand, hefting it up to his face as if to illustrate his point.

"_Okay_, but if you guys'll just let me—"

"Move, Sam," he huffed again, swirling the hand that wasn't supporting the camera in a gesture that was more befitting of his mom. "You're blocking Carly."

"Oh?" Sam asked with mock interest. "How 'bout I_—"_ she started, only Carly reached out and did a very effective job shutting Sam up without words. Sam would probably be sore from that pinch for about a week.

She didn't really make things any better with the way she grabbed Sam by the shoulders and physically moved her to the spot by her side.

"You heard our tech producer," Carly threw out. Sam could practically see the nervous waves of energy rising off her like heat. "As long as there's not a stampede of wild elephants coming, it can probably wait until _after_ the show."

Carly turned toward the camera, running a hand through her hair, waving away knots and any signs of anxiety with that one motion.

"Am I the_ only_ one here who heard me say the word _insane_?" Sam asked in exasperated wonder.

"We've on in 5—" Freddie started.

"Later," Carly remarked swiftly, thrusting something small and hairy at Sam. "Now put on your manly facial hair."

"—4—"

Sam made a deep sound of frustration which was muffled by the gray mustache she put on her face. "_There._ Now if you'll just listen for like—"

"—3—"

"It's crooked!" Carly cried, more in the manner of one shouting, _The aliens are here! _

"—2—"

"_Heh_?"

"—and—"

"_Mustache? Crooked_!"

"We're on the air!"

_Oh well_, their loss.

"Hey, party people!" Carly and Sam shouted in unison, their full attention fixed on the lens that represented their weekly viewers.

"She's Carly," Sam proclaimed, jabbing both her pointer fingers in Carly's direction.

"She's Sam," Carly shouted in response, returning the gesture in that all-smiles-all-the-time way she had when they were doing a show. "And this is a very special episode."

"What episode _isn't _special, Carls?"

She heard a few people chuckle off to her side. In front of them Freddie was grinning like a fool from where he was manning the tech camera, clearly enjoying the look of what he called the 'love of his life' covered with facial hair. The kid really must've had some daddy issues.

"_Well_," Carly shouted enthusiastically at the camera. "Beside growing facial hair, this is a very special episode because Sam and I've hit—you gonna say it with me Sam?"

Of course Sam would say it with her, so obviously that meant she shrugged dramatically and let out an exasperated "Why not?"

Sam broke her sour expression easily enough, pressing her shoulder to Carly's so they could both scream:

"_High school!_"

"That's right," Carly laughed. "As you can see, we're not in the iCarly studio." Freddie directed the camera at a few people who had gathered from where they were walking among the tables set up in the parking lot to watch the webcast, and a few of them waved at the camera. "We're at an undisclosed high school," she continued.

"In an undisclosed place," Sam added mysteriously.

"At an undisclosed time—"

"_Wait_ a minute," Sam interrupted, dragging it out in concern. "Should we have disclosed our names?"

"I don't know!" Carly shouted.

They grinned at each other for an instant before something over Carly's right shoulder caught Sam's eye, and she felt that smile tug on her more persistently.

"_Hey,_" Sam sung, prolonging the sound and pointing over Carly's shoulder in hopes that Freddie would have the sense to turn the camera. "Look at that guy with the ham sandwich. He knows what's up!"

The guy turned around, ham sandwich frozen at the half-way point to fulfilling its deliciously gory destiny in the guy's mouth.

"_Sam,_" Carly hissed.

The show went on as usual: with lots of screaming and food being used in ways the FDA surely wouldn't be approving anytime soon. Or ever. It only took a kid getting mauled by a rogue seagull on a desperate mission for blood to realize it.

Though the thing that really pumped Sam up was that Carly couldn't constantly drone on about how Sam lacked organization skills anymore, since when the disaster with the killer seagull left them with an extra ten minutes, Sam had beckoned over other students for last-minute interviews, even if she had called them 'fresh meat' and prompted scandalized glances from the nearby Earth Club table.

All in all, it was a great show.

"Well, that was sort of a disaster," Freddie said when he was coming back from locking his tech equipment inside the school. His mom had gotten him special permission to do so, so he could browse this 'event of much-needed life preparation' without worrying about getting his stuff damaged. "You guys wanna walk around or something? We pretty much did what we came here for," he tried to say smoothly.

"I'm good off that," Sam replied unenthusiastically. "The torture doesn't start for another week or so. Why would I wanna make rounds now? I'd just be mingling with people I'll probably be beating up in a month."

"Well, maybe if it's not too much for you," Carly said, a strange lilt to her voice. "They're actually giving away free stuff at some of the tables."

_Oh_, so it had been a strange lilt that said, _I, Carly Shay, know all of your weaknesses and will not hesitate to exploit them._

Sam was sorry to say she lit up like a bottle rocket about to burst at the words 'free stuff.'

"I'm in." She faded out for a moment, contemplating a myriad of previously unexplored possibilities. "_Hey._ Maybe if I like what these chums have to offer, we can work out a system."

"OK, now _this_ is where you turn something good into something that involves questionable morals. What've we discussed?" Carly asked, looking like some fleshy, long-armed _roadblock_ to Successful Bullying.

Sam stared.

"About blackmail…" Carly prompted.

Sam fished around in her pockets and shrugged. "It's not blackmail if the poor slobs think I'm doing 'em a favor."

"Oh great," Freddie chimed in. "She has a _philosophy_ on it."

"It's not a philosophy," Sam snorted. "It's more like…" she stuck her tongue in her cheek contemplatively. "A system of beliefs based on the art of blackmail, all which I've come to through rational investigation of the topic!"

Freddie threw his hands up like a huffy six-year-old in response. "That's what a philosophy is!"

"No blackmailing," Carly said simply, shaking something off. If Sam didn't know any better, she would have said Carly had been laughing. Freddie, on the other hand, looked like he might explode in annoyance. Both made Sam smile.

"I was just looking for a way to make some honest cash," Sam said innocently.

"Eh!"

"Ok," Sam relented. "I was just looking for a way to make some _dishonest_ cash. It's in my genes;_ something_ has to be said for that."

Carly looked pensive for a moment. "Yeah, how 'bout saying, 'I choose to go against the grain and not submit to a life of delinquency'?"

"Too much work," Sam yawned. "You know what happens when you go the wrong way down a one way street?"

"You get a traffic ticket?" Freddie asked.

Carly stifled laughter against Sam's glare before nudging both her and Freddie vaguely toward where there were a few tables set up. Each table had a bright-colored tablecloth and at least one hand-painted banner boasting the names of different student organizations.

"I don't expect you people to understand," Sam said, spitting off to the side. "The family code of conduct is crystal clear."

"Yeah?" Carly asked. Gravel was crunching under their feet, and she was grinning freely now. "And what is it? That you'll _not_ conduct yourself in a manner which is appropriate for civilized society?"

Sam just shrugged innocently, something that became a shudder of horror once she came across the words 'Health & Fitness Club' displayed proudly in bright yellow letters.

"Wow, this is all kind of nice," Freddie mused sickeningly. "Everyone coming together like this for things they believe in." He paused. "Well, not so much things they _believe _in as just interests they work up and then exploit so it can all go on their college applications."

Something small and annoying buzzed between them, and Carly swiped at it before nodding in dreamy agreement.

God, the poison of this place spread fast. Sam thought about covering her air passages with the collar of her t-shirt but settled on insulting Freddie instead:

"At least we know no one's coming together with _you_ for anything."

"_All right_!" Freddie replied excitedly, pumping a fist in the air as he all but skipped off.

"Oh my god," Carly laughed, sounding amused.

"It's a sad world where I'm wrong about something that involves_ Fredward,_" Sam muttered glumly. Freddie was now standing at one of the first tables, becoming swallowed in a crowd of his tech-loving brothers and sisters.

The banner hanging over the table read _AV Club_, and the letters were made out of something Sam was glad to say she couldn't identify.

The universe as she knew it was crumbling before her very eyes.

"Aw," Carly said unsympathetically. "He has fans."

"Yeah, yeah. The one thing the universe _didn't_ need was duplicates of _that._ Just think. Where individually they would all cower in fear, they'll now band together to fight their oppressor. In this case, _me_." Sam looked on contemplatively: only a few of them were that much taller than Freddie, and the ones who were looked like weaklings anyway. She sighed. "Soon they'll form a sort of pack mentality, Carls. I need them alone to break their spirits."

A tall dude went by, catching her attention.

"You finished?" Carly asked, still gazing after Freddie.

Sam toyed sadly with the strings snagged at the bottom of her pant pockets. "Yes."

Carly turned to Sam, her brow furrowed in a way that was all concentration. "I worry about you," she said seriously. Though maybe if her mouth weren't twitching up at the corners, Sam would have actually thought that Carly_ really _wanted to be taken seriously.

"Whatever," Sam shrugged, smiling all the same. "But hey, if you buy me some of _that_," Sam said, pointing at the same tall dude who was now several feet away. "I promise I'll behave for like, the rest of the day."

Carly stared. "You mean that guy with the dreadlocks and the little charm thing hanging from his eyebrow?"

"_No_," Sam said patiently. "Dude's got triple-layer Eskimo fudge ice cream! Look at that mess! That could be the best thing that's ever happened to me!"

"Of course."

"So?" Sam asked coaxingly.

"No misbehaving? The_ entire _day?"

"That's right: no 'mis,' just the 'behaving' part."

Carly was looking after the guy with the ice cream pensively. "_Deal_," she grinned.

When they shook on it, Carly added "Oh, and it started five seconds ago." and Sam mused that she liked it much better when Carly was being sneaky with people who _weren't _her.

The tech nerds were all an excited bustle of words like 'USB' and 'white balance,' and Sam put gum in what she thought might be the girl version of Freddie's hair while Carly tried to covertly pick it out in a few scandalized-looking movements.

That was when Sam was glad Carly agreed to a do-over and then decided that behaving was kind of tough, and no self-respecting Pucket should ever submit to such a life.

When they finally dragged Freddie away from the drones, they made rounds, thankfully only visiting the tables that made Carly or Freddie make a kind of squeeing noise of excitement. Some of the people already knew the three of them by name, which saved time on introductions unless someone wanted to snatch that time back to scream '_awesome_' in their faces.

Sam didn't care; she just wanted to get to that single, shiny red point in the distance: the rides. Well, _ride._ There was one, and it was called The Zipper.

Some _carnival_: it was all stupid tables for stupid clubs.

The sun was glinting off of The Zipper entirely too far in the distance, making it look like some beacon of head-spinning, puke-inducing hope, and Sam decided that people cared about some really stupid things in place of what was really important. (And what was important were rides and food, obviously.) This was all too much like a freak show; too bad they couldn't leave Freddie behind: he'd be right at home.

-

It took half an hour to get through most of those stupid tables, the shining point in the journey being when Sam had gotten to make a picture that involved shooting squeezable paints at a spinning piece of paper so she ended up with a picture that had a sort of kaleidoscope effect. She and Carly had spent some time arguing over if the one Carly had made was a frog in a hat or a lamppost in galoshes.

There was still the 'free stuff' to hold her over the rest of the time, even if some of it was just a bundle of lame, like coupons she made use of by throwing them at people's heads.

Carly gave her a do-over for that, too.

"You know what I'd wish for right now?" Sam asked in annoyance when Freddie wouldn't stop talking about how awesome AV Club was going to be.

"Hey, Freddie!" someone said gruffly from a distance.

There was only time for Freddie to squeak "Hide me!" and then it was too late. Duke, the wrestler Freddie had been paired up with for a science experiment two years ago had stampeded by, throwing Freddie in a headlock and dragging him off like some squirming cargo.

"Wow," Sam said in wonder. "It actually came true."

Only she was talking to the air, because Carly had walked off after Freddie and Duke.

"Oh, _c'mon_!" Carly was shouting. "You know he can't breathe with his face all smooshed in your side like that!"

Sam stomped off after them, getting rid of the last balled-up 'Save the Leatherback Turtle' fliers on someone's face.

Duke was standing at the edge of one of the tables doing nothing but lapping up the mess his ice cream made all over his hand while Freddie stood sputtering at his side.

It wasn't really the best kidnapping scheme. Sam would've left him in a basement with some beef jerky and stale Cheeerios.

"_What_ was that?" she heard Freddie ask once he'd regained what was a debatable state of composure.

Duke shrugged, his face still in his ice cream. "I wanted to get you to walk with me," he said.

"Must you hurt me in doing so?" Freddie asked sarcastically.

"What is this anyway?" Sam interjected. "Loser Club?"

"No, there's no such thing," Duke grunted, looking at her as if she were extremely stupid. "Read the sign."

It's a sad day when someone like Duke tells you to read, but she couldn't help but look anyway. The banner hanging over the table read, in hand-painted rainbow letters: _The Gay-Straight Alliance._

"Huh," Sam commented disinterestedly. "Something you wanna tell us about yours and Duke's science project all those years ago, Freddo?"

Freddie made a sort of choked noise in response, and that was when the girl who had been sitting on the other side of the table looked up, her blonde hair falling around her face in delicate blanket of curls.

She looked caught off-guard and maybe a little dumbstruck. Then she confirmed it by the way she said: "_Whoa_."

"Yeah," Freddie agreed dreamily. Sam promptly took a step toward Carly, since she didn't want to be near Freddie if he had some type of geek-boy reaction.

"I thought it was just some trick you guys used," the girl continued. Then she rose from her seat and leaned across the table, getting right up in Carly's face. "But you have great skin."

"Well, that wasn't weirdly obnoxious at all," Sam said sarcastically.

The girl just shrugged.

If she'd done that to Sam, she would have gotten a fist to her face, and something about the way the girl was just that_ rude _made Sam still want to punch her in the face. Carly just leaned back a bit, looking thrown. "Well," she said. "I do have a nightly routine!"

"My mom says,_ The man without a routine lives a life obscene_," Freddie interjected in a way he probably thought was smooth. Clearly he quickly saw the error of his way, because he cringed right after.

The girl looked at Freddie, her face staying impassive as she said, "You're that guy who makes static noises with his face."

"Tech producer," Freddie agreed, his face going alight with hope.

"Smashing," she said distractedly and then turned back to Carly. Sam stifled a laugh at Freddie's hopeful expression crashing into disappointment.

"You know, you guys are really funny. I never miss a show, even if I have to tear Duke away from the computer." The girl smiled then, in a way that made her look like she wanted to hug you and hurt you and all at once.

"Wait. So this guy's your…?" Sam cut in skeptically.

"Duke's my brother," she said simply, throwing in an impish grin for no reason she could see. "He's precious."

Looking from one to the other, Sam didn't see how the two were related. This girl was kind of wiry with small features while Duke was nothing but an oversized, blond lump.

"Yeah," Carly laughed. "If you call precious one of those out-of-control carnivores you see on Zoo Animals Gone Insane. He nearly tore up my apartment once."

"That's exactly what I call precious," the girl smiled. "And hey, you're even funny off camera."

"Well," Carly blushed, looking a bit confused.

Duke snorted from beside them and threw his crumpled napkin onto the floor.

"Hey, Freddie," he said, almost making it sound like a threat. "You want the rest of my ice cream? Coach says to go easy on the sweets."

"Um," Freddie replied meaningfully, suddenly much farther away from Duke than where he had began.

"Well, I'm Eileen," the girl interrupted, throwing a look at Carly. "And that looks like a frog in a hat." She tipped the papers Carly had in her hand down a bit then so she could look at the picture she'd made with the paints.

"Told you," Sam smirked victoriously toward Carly. "And mine's a bloodied alley, right? See, here you can see right where the severed head landed," Sam said proudly, and then shot another I-told-you-so look at Carly. Clearly, though, it was a look that flew right by her radar, because she wasn't paying any attention at all. "_Carls._"

A couple of other students Sam thought she should have recognized appeared at Sam's shoulder then and asked excitedly about the club, and Duke nudged Eileen to get her attention.

Feeling distinctly annoyed, Sam took her chance. "C'mon! I'd say it's time for that ice cream now," Sam suggested, tugging on Carly. She could already feel her stomach starting to growl.

Carly turned to Sam and blinked once. "Right," Carly said, and then shot her a smile. "_Negotiation_ ice cream." She turned back to where Eileen was now handling a small crowd, Duke staring on like some lifeless decoration. "Um, it was nice meeting--" But she stopped when Eileen looked caught up with the other students, one of which was the guy with the dreads she'd seen earlier.

Man, she _needed_ that ice cream.

"Wait," Eileen called as they turned to walk off. Carly turned back quickly, only outdone in speed by Freddie. "It would be awesome if you guys came to a meeting."

"Oh." Carly blushed and then looked back at the sign. "Well, I'm not—"

"It doesn't matter," Eileen said airily, reaching out to grab her sleeve. "Just come. We have movie nights." She smiled then and released Carly, who took her wrist in her other hand. "All three of you," Eileen continued, making eye contact with Sam before she made an odd, fumbling gesture and then shook her hand in an almost businesslike fasion before doing the same with Freddie, topping the whole motion off by pulling him into a hug.

The girl was weird, and that entire thought process was only exacerbated in Sam's mind by the way she started getting a little grabby with Freddie.

"I'll be there!" he said excitedly smug, when she released him.

Eileen grinned at them once more before going back to the crowd, and Sam shook her head.

"You really gotta control yourself around chicks," Sam said to Freddie, not waiting until they were out of earshot. "There comes a time when it's actually _embarrassing _for the people around you. Carly looked like she was gunna swallow her gum."

Actually, now Carly looked like she was a million miles away.

"_Carly_."

"Wait a minute," Freddie commented, seemingly on the same track Sam was. "Is this what I think it is?"

"What?" Carly asked, massaging her wrist in worry. "What do you mean?"

"It didn't bother you, did it?" he asked. Carly looked blank. "That she was kind of flirting with me?"

"Oh," Carly said, and Sam realized it looked like it was the first time she had exhaled in a long time. "_Oh._ Freddie, you know I don't care."

"I think she plays for the other team anyways, Freddo," Sam commented.

"Yeah," he agreed unconvincingly. The unconvincing part was then highlighted by the new spring in his step. It was a good thing that Sam was an able handyman _and_ such an insanely awesome friend. She stuck her foot in his path and fixed that spring for him for free.

-

"If the point of all that was to make me look forward to this," Sam said lazily, gesturing out over where everyone was making a group effort to clean up the parking lot. "I can say the person in charge gets a big, fat thumbs down."

At least she had ice cream to show for all the torture she was subjected to. It might not have been ham ice cream, but still, the Eskimos had a good thing going with this fudge idea.

"Wanna start walking back, or should I call Spencer for a ride?" Carly asked, looking a bit drawn.

"Nah, I have my tech equipment here," Freddie said. "We'll have to call my mom or else it won't fit with all the stuff Spencer lugs around."

The last time Spencer gave them a ride, Freddie had to sit wedged between a pile funnels. It was either that or on top of an assortment of glitter-encrusted power tools.

"Actually," Sam said grandly. "You might have gotten lucky today, Freddo."

"You're not gunna put your foot out in front of me again and then tell me I just got a free trip or something, are you?"

"No," Sam said around her ice cream, enjoying the taste of delicious fudge and an equally wonderful denial. "But if that wasn't such a lame idea, I'd have to try that later."

"Oh," Freddie said in annoyance, making an unfortunate-looking face.

"Now," Sam started. "What's yellow, kind of rusty, and possibly has the ability to go from zero to sixty without an axle breaking in half?"

Freddie scrunched up his face then changed tracks in an instant, his eyes going wide. "You _are_ gunna try something, aren't you?"

"Carly, help out the nub, will ya?"

"Nuh-uh," Carly shook her head. "I take no part in this."

"Fine," Sam shrugged. "Then I'll just drive myself home. Maybe Nerd Boy'll blow on you when you start sweating."

That got her attention: Carly grabbed at Sam's elbow, staring. "Wait." Sam cocked her head, an eyebrow raised in question. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"If you think I'm saying 'I want ham tacos, now hurry up and get in my car,' then hurry up and get in my car, because I want ham tacos."

Carly screamed an excited and shrill "_How_?" while Freddie said, "_No way_. Who in their right mind would let you handle heavy machinery?"

"Well, when you put it like that it sounds stupid," Sam agreed. Then she grinned at him impishly before gazing back at Carly, who always caught on quickly. Her smile lit up her entire face, and Sam knew they were thinking the same thing: no more sitting next to crazy people on buses or having to catch a ride with guardians whose cars housed power tools and perfume that smelled like cat pee. "But it turns out annoying uncles are good for more than just making you listen to stories about the old days and letting you use the stolen DVD players they hide in your room."

The sun was beginning to set, and Carly raised a curled hand to her brow to shield the light as she laughed softly. Freddie shuddered dramatically and dropped a few papers as a result, sneaking an extra step closer to Carly when he straightened out.

Sam turned on her heel and began stalking off to where she had left the car. She hadn't exactly gotten her permit yet, but no one had asked, and she figured the driving lessons she got from her cousins years ago would mask that fact from Carly until the excitement wore off.

When they arrived at the old car parked in a parking lot across the street, Carly could hardly keep from jumping up on her toes and was the first one to dive inside, even though she ended up sitting on something fuzzy that might have been an old hot dog or her uncle's dead hamster.

"Well," Sam declared, patting the piece of junk fondly. "I call 'er Piece of Junk." The car made a loud, metallic groan in protest. "We have a complicated relationship."

"That's one messed-up piece of machinery," Freddie commented.

"I think it's a fine piece of machinery as long as it doesn't break apart on the road," Carly commented as she stuck her head out the window. Something changed in her face then, and she reached for the inner door handle, which issued a load snap and broke off. "_Oh my god_."

"Relax," Sam said coolly. She leaned in through the window and over Carly, popping open the glove compartment to reveal other pieces that had broken off the interior, as well as a long strip that had come off the outside of the car. "Just put it with the others, and we'll get Spencer to lend us some super glue."

"Oh my god," Carly repeated with her usual brilliance.

It only took two trips to gather all of Freddie's tech things (and another round of ice cream for their troubles, obviously) before Carly and Sam piled into the car. The engine was purring loudly, and Freddie slammed the trunk closed when he had made sure everything was safe inside, and through the rear-view mirror, Sam saw him wipe his brow with the back of his hand before he went around to Carly's side to get in.

"Hold it," Sam said, pushing down on the gas pedal so the car inched forward as Freddie reached out toward the door handle. To Sam's amusement, he stood there with his arm still outstretched and his mouth open before striding forward.

"Hah," he deadpanned. "Very amusing." He stood behind them for a moment, exhaust in his face, as if deciding whether it was worth it to try again before striding forward, his face set. When he reached his grubby little hand out, though, Sam moved the car a second time.

"I'm warning you, Sam," he yelled.

Carly sighed. "_Sam_."

Her name meant so many things when coming from Carly, Sam mused. She was sure it was going to sound like something violent soon.

Sam still laughed and then stuck her head out the window to gaze at Freddie. "Uh-uh," she yelled to him. Carly would be able to tell she was enjoying herself by the blatantly self-satisfied inflections coloring her voice. _Oh well._ "You can't come in my car with food. It's one of the_ rules_."

Freddie glared and made a rude gesture that might have broken Mrs. Benson's heart. Sam laughed harder at that.

"Carly has _her_ ice cream in there," he said before making a short run forward, which Sam counteracted by pressing the gas pedal once more.

"Hey, Sam?" Carly asked very innocently over a mound of strawberry ice cream. She was playing with a thread that had come loose from her jeans, coiling it around her finger. "You know how that ice cream you're eating is like your second one?" That was when her voice began sounding less and less innocent as she spoke. "Remember our negotiation? Well, I'm pretty sure me buying you _two_ ice creams means you have to let him in." She turned to Sam then, her face looking like it was going to break apart in laughter. "And that I _own_ you," she sung with a playful lilt.

Sam looked at her ice cream as if it had betrayed her. "I can't believe I sold my soul for you," she said. Carly was giggling at bit from beside her. "Damn your Eskimo leaders and their irresistible fudge."

She thrust her ice cream at Carly and threw her head out the window.

"Get in," Sam called back to Freddie, who looked like he might have been getting ready to try something desperate, despite what statistics told him about what happened when he rebelled against her. She grinned at the memories, and it went easily into a smirk. "But you better haul yo' butt in here, boy," she shouted even more loudly. "You've got about three seconds before I step on it."

* * *

Thanks for reading, everyone! Your thoughts are very much appreciated. :)

* * *


	4. Lycanthrope

**_III. Lycanthrope _**

All Carly could see from her spot on the staircase was Sam's orange-cotton back, but it was all Carly needed in order to know that she was on the defense. Or offense, being that it was Sam.

"Look dude," she dully said to Freddie, who had his strained and angry face fixed right on her. "If I woulda known you wanted to go -"

"But that's just it!" Freddie retorted. "You didn't even_ ask _me."

"Well_ boo hoo_!"

Carly took a careful step from the last stair and moved off to stand at Freddie's left and Sam's right, close enough to feel the tension but enough out of the way of the eye-daggers they were figuratively shooting at each other.

"Okay, what's going on?" Carly intoned brightly, only it turned out sounding just as bright as a black hole. "Because I _know _you guys aren't arguing on the night we're going to see Drake Parker."

"You mean the night you and _Sam _are going to see Drake Parker," Freddie huffed.

Carly let her eyes slip warily from Sam's rock-hard expression to Freddie's twitching, discontent eyebrows, and suddenly, she felt a lead stone the size of truck come driving up her throat.

_Uh oh._

Carly didn't have to say anything after that; Freddie could see it in her face.

"Yeah," Freddie said, voice and arms crossed. "Forget something? Or should I say _someone?_"

It was probably worse, getting the expression on his face up close, because Carly saw in full view that even though it was disappointment there, he had been expecting it, like a kid whose dad always skipped out on his weekends with him when the kid was already packed and in the car.

"Look, Freddie," Carly tried, stepping in close. "We didn't know you even liked Drake Parker."

"That is untrue," Freddie pointed out matter-of-factly, his finger thrusting her way. "Remember that time I sung 'Makes Me Happy' at your sixteenth birthday party?"

Carly bit down on her lip and darted her eyes over to Sam, who just shrugged and slouched off to the kitchen.

God, Carly was an idiot. She should have _known_ not to rely on Sam to remember it was_ three_ tickets and not just two, but she had just been so excited, especially thinking about Sam's cousin with the lip ring who worked at the box office and got them a special discount.

Freddie's face was challenging, his eyebrows twitching the way they do when he tries not to whine since it's not the 'manly' thing to do, and god, Carly felt awful.

"I'm sorry Freddie," Carly said sincerely, nothing more than scraps of plans that would have been sufficient maybe three days ago darting through the cracks in her mind. "Maybe if you wanna come with us to the Catalyst, there'll be someone there who -"

"No!" Sam shouted, slamming the refrigerator door shut and stomping back over with an extremely large and messy turkey leg in her hand. She violently chewed off a piece before she spoke, and it dangled from her mouth like her not-quite-so-pent-up rage. "He's not coming with," she said, thrusting the dismembered leg in Freddie's direction. "I can't listen to 'Makes Me Happy' if Makes Me Wanna Throw-Up is standing right next to me."

"_Sam,_" Carly hissed, and when she saw that it would be extremely foolish to believe there was a way get them to stop glaring at each other, she made a quick gesture toward Freddie, moving in and pulling him toward the coat tree. "Look," she whispered defeatedly. "It was kind of going to be a girl's thing tonight anyway. You know, a screaming psychotically at singing rock star boys who wear really tight pants sort of thing."

Freddie grunted. Carly sighed.

"_I'm sorry_," Carly repeated, but this time it was more for the distinctly unfriendly thoughts swishing around in her head like cold water.

Carly had wanted to go to this concert with Sam and _only _Sam this time. It was a fact that the two of them never got to do this sort of thing exclusively together anymore, and this was their last chance before summer ended and Carly had to start thinking of things like projects and reports and the best deals on three-ring binders and keeping Sam from getting not only thrown in juvie for tipping over ice cream trucks but expelled from high school too.

"When we get back, we can get a smoothie," she offered apologetically.

Freddie grunted again, but it was less dark and broody and full of male hormones this time, like he was reconsidering.

His lip was all curled and secretive when he asked, "Just you and me? No Amazon Woman coming along to try and push me into traffic for looking at you?"

From behind her, Sam snorted loudly. "The way you stare it's like you're trying to melt her with your eyeballs."

"Hey!" Freddie retorted, leaning around Carly to thrust a finger Sam's way. "I _never_ stare for over three seconds at a time."

"Dude, you got a three-second rule for lookin' at chicks?" Sam snorted. "_Suave._"

"Isn't the three-second rule for food you got off the floor?" Carly cut in curiously.

Freddie loosened, going easily into his teaching stance. "Essentially, but it still applies nicely when assigned to certain common courtesies - "

"La la la! This conversation sucks Freddie's mom's - "

"-_ Sam!_" Carly hissed, scandalized.

"Homemade anti-bacterial freezer pops," Sam grinned angelically, barbeque sauce around her mouth like blood. "What'd you think I was gonna say?"

Freddie's arms were crossed, eyes squinted into little sharp slits until he looked back at Carly. "So whatdo you say? You, me, mango tango smoothies?"

"As friends," Carly confirmed. Just to be careful, because Freddie always seemed like he _wanted_ to get the wrong idea.

"Deal." Freddie smiled in a way that was contagious before throwing a triumphant, smirking look over Carly's shoulder, and when Carly turned around, Sam was slapping the bone from the turkey leg against her palm, glaring back menacingly.

"Oh, stop it," Carly half-grinned, trying to look stern. It didn't work, not when Sam was making _that_ face.

"I would stop," Sam said, the corners of her lips stretching along the tracks of her teeth in a smile. "Only it's time to _vámonos_!"

Sam did a dangerous, limb-swinging dance all the way to the door that made Carly smile and then duck for cover when the leg bone flew out of Sam's hand and hit the ceiling, and Carly tried not to look at Freddie as he grumbled about having to play scrabble with his mom when the pieces were swathed in bubble wrap and she had a 54-paged list of words harmful to a teenage boy's psyche.

-

Carly wanted to ride the entire way to the Catalyst with her bare feet on the dash, no other reason but because this was Sam's car, and something about it made her want to toe her shoes off and spread herself out in a way she wouldn't have done riding with anyone else. Not Freddie, not even Spencer. The rusty old clunker meant freedom in some sort of epic teenage-ish way, and her muscles demanded her to flatten herself over the cracked leather and plastic and just _feel it._

The speakers ground out a song all made up of strings as if they were almost choking on them, like they had swallowed dental floss in symphonious knots at their throats, but Carly still liked the way even that spun her favorite songs into something different. Like getting cotton candy from plain sugar. An expressive, mourning voice was singing about a girl and comparing her to various power tools, and it made something at the bottom of all the organs inside of her slop around like a cold fish gasping for air.

Carly pressed two fingers to the spot above her belly button just to make sure her guts weren't about to spill out.

"You gonna hurl?" Sam asked.

She could tell when Sam's eyes darted from the road for a few seconds to peer at her, even though her eyes were focussed mostly at the crack on the window that looked like a spiderweb, and Carly denied it with a quick shake of her head, the plastic guitar pick earrings hooked through her earlobes jangling like ridicule. _Liar,_ they click-clacked.

"Then?" When the car crept to a halt at the corner of Hound's Estate, waiting for the old traffic light to flicker from red to green, Sam turned her head to fix her eyes right on Carly. She looked almost cramped behind the steering wheel, the seat pushed forward in order for her to reach the pedals. "What's been eating ya, kid, if it isn't something you've been eatin'?"

"Always thinking about food," Carly teased, allowing her hair to fall over her cheek when she tilted her chin downward. She hoped that prompt would pop up in Sam's mind in the form of a dangling carrot - or a dangling fat cake in Sam's case - and lead her far away from uncomfortable topics that Carly wasn't even sure of herself.

Only Sam basically just stared at Carly in that stony, "you bore me, kid" way she handled Freddie when he tried to tell them he was hitting his growth spurt soon. Unconvinced. Then Sam did something she would never do with Freddie. She let it go. She let it go even though Carly knew Sam was right on; Carly'd been weird for weeks.

"Skip ahead three songs, will ya?"

Carly reached her pale fingers toward the knob on the stereo and the inside of the car became full with a new song like there was a fog rolling in. The cars around them inched forward impatiently, and Sam turned back to the road as the red pitted into the stoplight died, giving way to bright green.

"The thing about being so malicious and rude," Sam expounded philosophically. "Is that you have to pay close attention. Kinda notice things about people."

"You pay attention to things that aren't food?"

"As a matter of fact," Sam said. "I sometimes even pay attention to things that aren't food at the same time I'm paying attention to food."

"Inspiring," Carly laughed sarcastically, relaxing back into the seat.

"Which is _why_ I'm so good at hurting someone like Fredwad."

"Great. Thanks for sharing the tried and true method for bullying."

"I _notice_, Carls," Sam amended like it meant too many things, and all the while her voice dropped and Carly's stomach flipped so she thought the lost pitch somehow got in there and made her internal organs into pancake goo. "Look. You haven't been doin' that twirly thing with your hair lately or repainting your nails every time the polish on your pinky gets chipped a little, and you didn't even say anything last week when Spencer brought that hobo that he thought was his old kindergarten art instructor to dinner and he stole your helping bra. You're _sulking_."

Carly looked through the dirty glass and hugged her knees, tucking her shoulders into a half shrug she didn't release.

"Maybe I'm just not in the mood for twirls. And I outgrew my helping bra before school let out last year," she added as an afterthought.

Sam raised a mocking eyebrow at Carly's vest-clad chest, and Carly quickly pressed her knees closer into her skinny body, reaching over to pinch Sam in the arm, which made Sam almost run down an old lady wearing a straw hat and riding a segue, as she attempted to swat Carly's hand away while making a sharp turn into a parking structure.

"Learn to drive!" Sam screamed from her window.

Once they were parked, the gears clicked into place before she killed the engine, sliding her seat back so it clicked loudly in the metal track, and twisting at the waist to stare at Carly.

Sam reached out very suddenly and took Carly's wrist, pulling it close to her face to inspect something, and Carly felt as if she just got into a staring contest with the sun, her cheeks overheating and her mouth going parched all the way down to the pit of her stomach, and god, it was weird, really weird, because it was just _Sam _in front of her.

And it wasn't the first time it had happened like that. That was a week ago when Ms. Benson had insisted on taking her, Sam, and Freddie to Kid's Day at the community pool in an attempt to convince herself that Freddie had stopped aging at ten.

While Freddie played Red Light, Green Light in the shallow pool with seven-year-olds, she and Sam sat off to the side squirting the extra tubes of sunscreen Ms. Benson had brought into each others' hair, and when Carly leaned over to slap a glob across Sam's bare shoulder, she had felt, frankly, like she was going to throw up, so she fled fast and locked herself in one of the pink stalls that were off to the side of the womens' locker rooms, waiting for the sick feeling to crawl out her throat and die at the bottom of the toilet bowl, at the same time realizing that somehow that wasn't the problem at all. Sam's feet had shown up under the stall door a few seconds later, the scent of sunscreen and chlorine all around like a sharp confusion.

Carly snatched her hand back too quickly, rubbing the spot Sam had touched with her thumb as if she were rubbing Sam or the sunscreen from a couple of weeks ago off.

"You've been biting your nails," Sam stated, throwing an arm over the steering wheel and lifting an eyebrow so it shaped itself like a little open umbrella.

"N- _so_? Is it a federal offense to bite my nails now?"

If Sam knew anything about nail biting being in law books, she didn't answer to that. "Look, if this is about that school thing still." Carly's stomach churned. "No one's gonna touch or say anything to you, got it?"

The rest of the sentence wafted unspoken between them.

_Or else._

Carly peered into her lap and saw her hands intertwined there like foreign objects, suddenly so odd and outside of herself.

She looked away, and Sam didn't press her, and suddenly Carly just felt extremely _bad, _because that wasn't what was worrying her at all.

Put simply, Carly was obsessing over something no one else even brought up, even_ remembered, _which made her feel like an alien or something because of it. It was weird and random, but she could still fee Duke's sister's fingers around her wrist like five cigarette burns. Something bothered her about the entire thing, something that made all those moments from that day on magnify and then travel constantly through her mind like beggars, over and over, only instead, 'Spare some change?' became, 'Spare me a thought.'

And then there were times when, rolling it around again and again inside of her head, she even started to get scared that maybe she felt so uneasy about Duke's sister and her club table was because, despite how great Spencer had raised her, she had somehow mutated into a secret bigot or homophobe like her great aunt who lived somewhere in Florida.

And Carly hated it. She felt like the inverse of that stupid cliché in teen movies, where the geeky girl makes a transformation into a hot cheerleader over a summer in France, only it was Carly's _insides_ that were shifting against her and without her permission, like she was a lycanthrope growing fur and a snout and her entire soul was building a tiny hut for itself on the full moon to live.

She tucked her hands under her legs, imagining claws, and what Sam said next made Carly sure that she took the silence all wrong.

"Look. Tonight you forget about that, kiddo. I'm gonna make sure you're gonna have the best night ever, hands down."

Sam was being entirely serious, too; her blue eyes burned holes right through her, and Carly smiled too thin. Hating that everything had suddenly gone so _serious _in less than half an hour, she glanced down at her feet. Long toes with purple-painted nails like polished marbles. No transformation, just her plain skinny feet that were too white.

Carly sucked in a calming breath, like the ones she always saw Ms. Benson take when she looked like she realized she was about to go crazy (which probably wasn't saying anything good about Carly) and toed on her slips-ons like it was a form of agreement before grinning back toward Sam.

"Okay."

"There ya go!" Sam encouraged and then leaned forward and put her hand out for a best friends fist-bump. After Carly obliged, Sam turned to thumb up the metal peg on the door and then flung it wide open.

It would be okay. It would, and most of her uneasy feelings tonight were probably just jitters over the concert. She was fine.


End file.
